


Group Project

by MisterDiddums



Series: Shelter/Group Project [2]
Category: D. Gray Man
Genre: Allen has Synesthesia, Allen takes on the world, Alma is Non Binary, Chaoji has Anxiety, Cross has a TYPE and a habit, Cross has mastered dad now he must master grandad, Domestic af, Earl and Noah, Family Feels, Kanda has Aspergers, Lala is blunt and bossy, Lenalee is aromantic, Link has the dad gene, Link is Link, Mana is a troll, Multi, Other, Timothy is an excitable child, and graduates college!, chaoji is a baritsa, crushed cameras, he's there kind of, its a big one, its a sequel to shelter, man's got goals guys, so is anita, tfw u mess up ur own tags, that type is falling for people he's arrested lmao, the lee siblings are best, the media world, the swear jar is back, they take care of the family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 11:10:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10898133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MisterDiddums/pseuds/MisterDiddums
Summary: Short sequel to Shelter.A family can’t be a team, because with teams, there’s always a winner or a loser. With family, there are no losers. That’s what Timothy Hearst-Walker believes anyway.(This is where the Walker-Link family grows into a larger, domestic pile of cute, Mana still somehow makes sure his family is taken care of, and Anita is here and she is a Queen.)





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Summary: Allen Walker once told Howard Link that he wanted five children, while Kanda Yuu demonstrates that his memory is selective, but at least he knows that Alma likes cupcakes.

Love stories don’t end at the first kiss, confession or even marriage. When the love is given right, the story will in fact, never end. **  
**

* * *

 

_When Allen Walker was 17, he looked right into Howard Link’s dark eyes and declared that he wanted five children._

_Link, 21, snorted. “Honestly Walker, you’re child enough as it is.” He countered. The younger would only huff and pout, until Link set a batch of freshly baked cookies on the table._

 

* * *

 

**It started with Timothy Hearst.**

Link was less surprised that his husband brought home a child, and more so at the fact how easily attached he himself became. Which in itself was surprising, as Link believed he should at least be fussing over the former fact, because Walker you can’t just bring home random, homeless children and expect it to be alright.

Except that it was alright. In its own way.

 

* * *

 

The night after Link first met little Timothy, Allen said, “Link I want him to be ours.”

It was the conviction and determination in Allen’s silver eyes that melted away any doubt Link may have had. It was a heavy next step, but.

Link took hold of his husband’s hand and squeezed. “Alright.”

(Allen Walker always got his way in the end. Or rather, Link was simply unable to deny his husband anything.)

 

* * *

 

Somewhere, where the moon shines brightest, the fondest of memories smiled while the stars glitter to the tune of a grand piano.

Something is starting, and it was all very exciting!

 

* * *

 

“Walker, where are you going?”

“Eh? To the adoption agency!”

“…It’s the middle of the night, wait until the morning.”

Allen huffed and flopped himself down on the floor as though he were the ten year old, while Link rolled his eyes and carried young Timothy to the guestroom of the suite. The boy had began nodding off after dinner.

After tucking the boy in, Link had a sudden epiphany and ran out to the hall. “Walker!” He hissed.

Rolling to his stomach to stare at his panicking husband, Allen raised his brows. “What?”

_“Does the orphanage even know where Timothy is right now?”_

Oh. Well heck.

Just then, their suite entrance opened to reveal a very scathing Lenalee Lee. “ _ **Allen!**_ Do you know how long I have been looking for you!” Scolded the singer’s best friend, and only bodyguard. Allen had forgotten that he had snuck away before finding Timothy.

Double heck.

 

* * *

 

That is how three adults carted one sleepy ten year old across Paris, in the middle of the night, to Hearst Orphanage.

The headlines of French newspapers were very interesting the next morning.

 

* * *

 

Despite the nonsense, Mother Hearst agreed to meet with the couple the next afternoon. She looked about as impressed as a brick. “You wish to adopt Timothy?”

Allen, in all his charming and smiling glory, nodded. He was amping up the charm more than usual it seemed. The Nun looked even less impressed. From Allen’s shocking white hair, to the sleeve of tattoos that danced on his left arm, it was a wonder the woman even let both men into the room. Truth be told, Link himself felt unease about the situation. 

Not about Mother Hearst’s reaction. If she denied them this, Link new that Allen would get his way in the end; because even though she looked less than pleased at them, his husband only radiated confidence.

Link was more unease about his own reaction. After six years of marriage, Link learned that he would do a frighteningly lot for his husband. (Even before then.) He also really did not want to take on a faction of the Church.

“Misters Walker. I believe you can understand why I am weary of this whole situation.” Started Mother Hearst. “For one, you are both strangers to us and yet you say you want to adopt one of our own?”

Link nodded. He could understand her suspicion. Allen was a very suspicious individual.

Perking up even more, Allen asked attentively. “What would you like to know?” As though simply playing a game of twenty questions would make this process more at ease.

Before the Nun Mother could comment, the meeting room door slammed open to reveal a flustered young woman. Link guessed she had been running, if the state of her disarray were any indication. “Is that-! _Allen Walker_?!”

The Nun looked positively cowed, while Allen stood in greeting. “Oh are you a fan? Hello!”

“Now - wait just a-” Mother Hearst attempted to make order of the situation, but was interrupted by Link setting the file case he had brought along on the table. “What?”

“I took the liberty of bringing any legal and background information you would need to review to help the adoption process move smoothly.” Link stated, a gleam in his eye. Because of course he had come prepared. 

The moment little Timothy shook his offered hand the morning before, crumbs on his face and mouthful of Link’s pie, Link started to plan.

It also helped that all Allen had to do was text a certain Noah Heir a picture of the ten year old and ask, “Want to be a great uncle?” and all paperwork ever needed for an adoption was faxed to them within the next hour.

 

* * *

 

“Hey Tim.” Allen said, grabbing the boy’s attention. Timothy looked at the man with owlishly wide eyes. “Why are you here?!”

Instead of answering, Allen grinned toothily. “Want to be part of my family?”

The boy blinked. Then looked to the left, then the right as though he didn’t know where his eyes should go in a moment like this. His little nose scrunched up and Allen wondered if this was how Mana felt all those years ago.

The feeling of, _yes, I adore this little person, please let me love them._

Allen held out his hand.

And Timothy took it.

“You’re so cute.” The soon to be father cooed.  
  
“I am not!” Denied the soon to be son, trying his best not to let his tears fall.

Mother Hearst watched them both and thought well. That’s that it seemed.

 

* * *

 

_“Our family’s getting bigger Mary.”_

Cross looked around his kitchen, wine bottle pausing mid-pour into a frosted glass. All he spotted was the cat. “Was that you?”

Atuuda only chirped and rolled onto her back.

From the dining room, the Colonel heard his guest call for him. Writing it off as nothing, Cross went to his guest with their glasses of wine. “Coming Anita.”

“You should see this news feed about Allen.” His date grinned and he could see mirth in her eyes. She held up an iPad with said article.

_**“Cinderella Story For Little Boy: Allen Walker Adopts!”** _

“Oh my fuck.”

* * *

 

“Congratulations Father. You’re a Great Grand Papa now.” Neah declared out of the blue, and set a file on his father’s desk.

Scrambling to flip it open, the Don of one of the most notorious and feared mafia’s began to weep. “He’s adorable!”

 

* * *

 

After finalizing all the paperwork, Link arched his impressive eyebrows at the name on the document. “Timothy Hearst?”

Allen leaned into his husband and hummed. “They were close, and Tim wanted to keep her name. She’s important.”

Nodding to show he understood, Link tucked the document away safely. “We will have to stay in contact with her then.”

“Already way ahead of you. We’re practically pen pals now!”

 

* * *

 

Half a world away, Kanda Yuu steps in line at a local cafe. He thinks about getting tea and some of those overly sweet cupcakes Alma likes so much when he spots the barista, who looks downright gobsmacked.

Not that Kanda notices, mind, he has tea and things to get done. “I want a large white tea and a-”

The barista cuts off his order by stuttering, which wow, rude. Kanda glared. “What!”

“ **You**!”

“How do you know my name?!” Kanda demanded, guard rising.

The other man shook his head. “No! I mean you! As in Y-O-U! But you’re Kanda right?”

“What the fuck, do I know you?”

“It’s me! Chaoji Han!”

Kanda continued to glare. Well, it was more like a glare-stare. He was really just staring the other man down, but his natural countenance being as it was, meant it looked like a glare. Chaoji looked nervous, but was determined not to break the hard gaze.

After a solid minute of silence, Kanda breaks it.  
  
“Who?”


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something has been keeping Cross from being a melancholy bastard, and Kanda gets an apology from someone he honestly doesn’t even remember, but at least he finally got Alma their cupcake. Feat: Timothy wants to be like his Papa.

While they were all packed onto Allen’s tour bus for his next concert in Barcelona, said singer/songwriter was eyeing his swear jar critically. Next to him, Timothy was mimicking him, though for likely different reasons. **  
**

“Why do I need a swear jar?” The boy asked, frowning. Okay sure he had a bit of a mouth on him, but it’s not like he had any money to contribute regardless.

“Cussing is bad and makes you look unintelligent.” Intoned the young father.  “Also, you’ll need this for when you meet Grandpa.”

“Grandpa?”  
  
“Grandpa.”

 

* * *

 

Colonel Marian Cross sneezed in his office.

“Bless you sir!” Hollered the greenhorn, Tokusa, as the kid ran by, arms full of documents and what looked a coffee for Colonel Nyne.

 

* * *

 

Link had to do a double take at the newly updated swear jar. Gone was the cut out of Han Solo, and in its place was a freshly printed and trimmed image of Spock. The blonde baker turned and gave his husband **A Look**.

Said husband gave a smile full of so much mischief, Link felt his ears burn.

Timothy look between both of his new parents and squinted. “What?”

“I’ll tell you when you’re older.” Allen sang.

 

* * *

 

Anita Han was the owner of a corner cafe on the same block as Miranda’s and Aleister’s stores. She was proud of her little business and those who worked for her. She also enjoyed manning the counter herself most days. If Anita were one to boast, she would claim that her brewing prowess was one to be appreciated. On the other hand, Mahoja, Anita’s friend and co-owner of the cafe, did enough boasting about their store and skills for the both of them.

In her care, Anita Han also has a nephew.

 

* * *

 

When Allen held his first, quote/unquote, concert at the home of the Minister of Defence (who happened to be a Noah of all the things), Cross felt unfairness billow down into his bones.

It was an awful unbalance, this unfairness. It bubbled up and Cross almost let it come out, but he forced it down. Maybe he would let it all out later, after Allen had his moment and the Colonel could run away for just a moment.

The unfairness that he could watch his kid, who was all grown up and making his way in the world, but Mana wasn’t there.

It was moments likes these, when Cross would look at their son and feel the flow of longing creep up his spine.

It was also during Allen first de facto concert, under the moonlight and in the crowd of people, Marian Cross began to feel.

He also began to hear.

Where the prickles along his back would be brushed away by a familiar pressure and a fond memory would sigh that sigh that meant Cross was being his own brand of ridiculous.

_“No more of this melancholy, you silly cello man.”_

_Ping, ping, ping_ goes the sound, like keys on a piano (except Allen wasn’t playing the piano). And Cross would turn, only to find no one and nothing there.

At first, he wrote it off as too much expensive alcohol.

 

* * *

 

Chaoji came to her all of thirteen years old, from a broken home and an even more broken heart. With him was also a baggage of prejudices that Anita Han refused to allow into her home.

“Every moment you step through this doorway, you will leave all your biases on the front step.” She instructed, unmoveable.

The young teenager scowled and looked from Anita to the world behind him, as if weighing his options. He went inside regardless.

Young Chaoji eventually learned that the person he was before wasn’t worth being at all, and that he could stay on that doorstep and take a hike.

His aunt became his new mother and Chaoji thought she was a superhero. She was calm but strong, and wherever she went, she easily called attention. Anita was a natural leader who inspired loyalty in not just wayward teenagers. Chaoji was one hundred percent certain that his aunt could tell a mountain to move, and it would.

Chaoji Han wanted to make his aunt proud.

 

* * *

 

There came a turning point for Chaoji Han, where he wished he could find certain people from his past and apologize.

 

* * *

 

Looking at their brooding husband, Alma set the pile of fabric they had for a new design on their studio table. “I thought you were going to get tea from Anita’s?”

Kanda kicked his boot into the innocent wall he was brooding upon. “Some jackass behind the counter yelled at me.”

After a heartbeat, Alma asks, “What did you do?”

“Nothing damnit!”

“ _Yuu._ ”

Throwing his hands into the air, Kanda scowled. “The creep started spewing out my name, and wouldn’t stop staring and it was weird as fuck Alma!”

Well, that was a bit odd, Alma surmised. “You said he yelled at you.”

“Yeah, after I started running out the door.” Alma’s husband said, bluntly. They both stared at one another, before Kanda went back to brooding.

Alma decided that new clothing line for that magazine could wait another day and grabbed their keys. “Alright, come on. Let’s go try again.”

“What?” Kanda looked at them, incredulous. “I’m not going back there. If you want a cupcake so damn bad call Two-Spot to mail you one from Russia.”

“They’re in Spain right now, Yuu.”  
  
“What the fuck I don’t care.”

Alma was giving Kanda that fond look they always gave, whenever Kanda was being ridiculous but they still found it endearing. “Obviously it’s bothering you, so let’s go try again Yuu.”

“ **No**.”

They leaned down and planted a sweet kiss on Kanda’s cheek. “Yes.”

Goddamnit, Kanda thought.

 

* * *

 

The second time it happened, Cross was watching his brat get proposed to directly after his graduation ceremony. Besides him, Neah was hyperventilating while Road called everyone on the family contact list about the news.

Really, you go kid, Cross had thought, smug and proud (even though the other young man was related to Lvellie, but Cross was very good at ignoring things he didn’t want to deal with). There was a cheer and clap besides him, and at first he thought it was Road on the phone with one of the other Noah.

 _“He’s grown up so much Mary. I’m so proud.”_  
  
“Yeah.” Marian breathed. “So am I.”

Wait.

Standing and looking errantly around, Cross found no one beyond the two in the bleachers with him. Road was off the phone and started to rapid fire text, while Neah was busy scowling.

Noticing the redhead’s distraction, Neah also looked around. “What is it?”

There was a breeze and if Cross allowed himself to listen well enough, he could hear a piano and a laugh. “Nothing.”

“It’s nothing.”

It had to be nothing.

 

* * *

 

“ _Helloooo Grandpa_!”

Cross hung up the skype call.

It rang again, and his damn brat was still grinning like the troll that he was. “Don’t be so rude Cross. You have a grandson to meet!”

“Christ I thought the news was just making shit up.” He grumbled. “Well, let’s meet the kid.”

Off screen, Cross could hear Allen coercing the kid over. “Come on Tim!”

The screen was taken up with the face of a very curious boy with blue hair and large brown eyes. Once again, Marian Cross remembered that he knows fuck all about how to interact with children. This resulted in a staring match.

(He could hear Allen laughing in the background. “Allen shut up.”

“You are so awkward it’s sad.” His brat stated. Cross felt his eye twitch.)

“Hello I’m Timothy.” The boy finally greeted, deciding to pity this old man and lead the conversation.

“Hi.” Cross greeted back.

More staring.

(“Link. Link, this is hilarious.” Allen had stage whispered.)

Timothy squinted at the screen. “Why do you have so much hair?”

“Because. Why is your hair blue?”

“Because.”

(“Yes, why is his hair blue?” Link asked, staring his husband down. Allen whistled innocently.)

Deciding that Cross had enough social torture he could handle, Atuuda took this moment to climb his shoulder and steal the show. “Cat!” Timothy announced, suddenly excited. Said feline chirped and began purring up a storm in Cross’ ear. Loud hell creature.

Link popped his head into the window. “Ah, Atuuda.”  

At seeing her human, Atuuda went up close and personal with the computer screen and began to paw at it. On the floor, there was a demanding yip, and Cross found himself with a lapful of happy corgi.

“Tim!” Allen cheered, now in the screen. His son looked at him confused. “What?”

“No, Timcampy, our dog.”  
  
“Wait, if I’m Tim, and the dog is Tim, then who’s driving the car?”

 

* * *

 

“Anyway, how’s Rosemary?”

“The fucking plant ate my cigars.”

“Oh good, you are feeding her.”

Taking his cue, young Timothy crawled into his father’s lap and shoved the swear jar at the camera. “Quarter!”

Cross choked on his tongue.

 

* * *

 

Timothy thought his new family was very odd, but also very cool. Especially since apparently he also now had a cat AND dog. (And a man eating plant, but that’s for a later meeting).

 

* * *

 

The cafe` door chimed, and Chaoji gave an enthusiastic “Welcome!” Only to suddenly feel like hiding under the counter the moment he saw his two customers.

Alma Karma had made it their mission all throughout middle school to chase Chaoji off away from Kanda. Not that he blamed them now. But past regrets were only one factor that made Chaoji want to hide.

Alma was scary as hell when mad, and it didn’t take a genius to tell that Kanda Yuu was very precious to them.

Behind Alma was said precious person, who was skulking like a shadow.

The second they saw Chaoji, a dark look flashed over Alma’s face, and the barista waved his arms in the air, signalling surrender.  
  
“Wait wait! I’m sorry!” He let out.

The other customers in the cafe looked up from the coffees and newspapers, startled and curious.

“I was trying to apologize earlier, but he ran off, and I am so sorry for everything!”

The entire coffee parlor was silent, when Alma snorted and then giggled. Chaoji felt his knees go weak.

Looking at their husband, Alma flashed a glittering smile. “He’s sorry Yuu.”

“For what, freaking me out?”  
  
“…Yes.”

Kanda huffed and stalked to the counter. “Fine whatever. I want a white tea and the biggest cupcake you have.”

Stunned, Chaoji wordlessly punched the order in, giving the other man a confused look. “You don’t. Remember me…. Do you?”

It was Kanda’s turn to look confused. “I just saw you an hour ago; I don’t think I’d forget someone who weirded the fuck out of me.”

At a cafe table, Alma was laughing silently into their fist and kicking the wall in mirth.

Well, Chaoji got to finally apologize at least.

 

* * *

 

The third time, Anita had just introduced herself to him with one of the most beautiful smiles he had seen in a long time, and a spark in her eye that could very well excite him if he let himself look long enough.

 

* * *

 

_After ringing up his order, she introduced herself. “Anita.”_

_Cross looked from her outstretched hand, to her (still very pretty) face, flummoxed. “What?”_

_She laughed, and Cross noted that her laugh was also very pretty. “This is the part where you give me your name and I start to flirt with you.”_

_“Oh.”_

_**Oh.** _

 

* * *

 

Marian walked out of the cafe, a little star struck with a cup of coffee and a phone number scrawled beautifully across the cup.

_“Oh, she’s lovely. I like her!”_

Jumping, Cross cursed and whirled around, looking for that voice that sounded too much like a happy memory.

Once again finding nothing but air, Colonel Marian Cross grumbled to his car. Only to spill the entire contents of his coffee on his front when the radio station began playing a piano melody.

It was supposed to be a rock station damnit!

 

* * *

 

Once in Barcelona, the little family unpacked their way into their new temporary hotel suite. Timothy had quickly become shellshocked at all the flashing cameras and people vying for his father’s autograph. Taking the front through the crowd, his newly dubbed Aunt Lenalee somehow managed to split the sea of people as if she were Moses.

Little Timothy decided he was going to hold her hand, because she was cool.

“You’re cool.”

Lenalee laughed, charmed and agreed. “I know.”

Once unpacked and comfortable, Link began taking over the kitchen, which was well stocked “ _as a courtesy_.” Link believed that his husband was simply spoiled wherever he went.

Setting out flour, eggs and butter, Link began going over his mental list of what to bake. Deciding on a cake, he began tying his apron around his waist, when he felt a tug on it. “Hm?” He looked down at Timothy who was looking up at him with all the seriousness a ten year old could muster.

“Papa.”

Link felt his heart jump into his throat.

“Show me how to make something.”

Suddenly feeling weak in the legs, Link found himself crouching at his son’s level and hesitantly patting the boy on his crown. “Alright.”

Allen chose that moment to slither over the other side of the counter bar, eyes heated. “ _ **Papa**_.” He sang and taunted. Link jerked himself upright and ignored his child of a husband, grabbing a chair and setting it next to the island table where all the ingredients were set. On some kind of instinct Link didn’t even know he had, he lifted Timothy up and into it. “First we need to sift the flour, then get our wet ingredients measured.”

Timothy nodded, determined to listen to everything his father was telling him.

Sliding next her best friend, Lenalee cooed and started videoing the impromptu baking lesson. “Cute, cute, cute!”

After showing the boy how to sift flour, Link let Timothy try on his own. Only for the ten year old to shake the sifter too roughly, and sent a plume of flour into the air and onto Link’s face. Lenalee began laughing and sent the video to Alma.

“I am finding you so attractive right now.” Allen stated, gaze still hot. Link only glared, ears red.

“Papa you have flour on your face.”

 

* * *

 

That night, Link was considering smothering his husband with a pillow.

“ _Papa~_ ”

“Stop.”

“ _Papa, Papa. Link’s a Papa_!” Allen chanted, straddling his husband on the bed, grinning like an imp. A white haired, handsome imp that Link found himself terribly attracted to.

Maybe he should smother his own face with a pillow, with how red he can feel it burning.

Throwing himself into a fit of giggles, Allen buried his face into the crook of Link’s neck.


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timothy goes on a wild clown case, Neah may as well be the family security system, and we get to witness the day and the life of a barista.

Here is what Chaoji learned: **  
**

Alma Karma was slowly, but surely, taking on the fashion world by storm. Their name had appeared in magazines, and benefactors had started looking, interested in what they had to offer in that brilliant, creative mind of theirs. (The fact that a certain famous friend of theirs continued to sport their designs on stage helped, immensely.)

They liked large, caramel-vanilla blended coffees with whipped cream and chocolate chips, and Mahoja’s lemon cupcakes.

They had married Kanda Yuu mere months after graduating high school.

The same Kanda who hates anything sweet, and only ever drinks herbal teas (preference: white tea), and always scowls at Alma’s frou frou drinks when picking up their order, but diligently delivers it anyway.

Kanda was also working his way through his college degree online, as the man would often hole himself up in the cafe corner, typing away at his laptop. Anita seemed to adore him, and always made a point to keep that particular corner reserved for when she knew his study days were.

He also wore glasses when on the computer, and apparently had a side job as a dog walker, which Chaoji was honored to witness one early morning. The long haired man toting an armful of leashes and happy canines from across the street. A smiling corgi harnessed at his front.

To see people he thought he knew from his past in a different light was somewhat exhilarating.

 

* * *

 

_Chaoji had tried college._

_He honest to God, really did try._

_The dream was to head off right after graduation, and make a way himself. He wanted to make Anita proud. Proud that she even bothered to take in his lonesome and arrogant self. He wanted the world to see him successful and know that he was raised by someone worth knowing._

_That she hadn’t wasted her time on him._

_He lasted until his second year away, and he felt himself slipping._

_I can’t do this. He thought, troubled. But don’t I have to? What a waste! His mind argued._

_He couldn’t just waste Anita’s money like this! College was important, wasn’t it?_

_But he couldn’t keep up. It felt as though he was trapped by dark gray, looming walls and lost in the open sea at the same time. His feet were heavy but his nerves told him to run!_

_He can’t run! He’s an adult now! He was supposed to be a man!_

_Unconsciously, he dialed his aunt’s number, and cried. “Can I come home?”_

_Faster than flipping a light switch, Anita was there holding his sad, sad face and wiping away the salt water. “Come help me run the cafe.” She said._

_His aunt truly was a superhero._

 

* * *

 

Komui’s phone chimed and he instantly recognised the ring tone. “Ah! It’s Lenalee!” He cheered and ran to connect the phone to the lab’s bluetooth.

On the overhead, the facetime was projected and Lenalee appeared. “Hello!”

The entire forensics team chorused their own greetings, enthusiastic and rambunctious.

She was smiling and safe and sound and beautiful and Komui suddenly felt blessed.

“My dear, darling, little sister how are you?” He gushed.

Lenalee watched as her brother seemed to lose control of his limbs, as he often did when excited, a mixture of exasperation and joy on her face. “I’m fine brother. I just wanted to check in like I promised. We just landed in Bar- **_is that a dead body_**?!”

Komui, and the rest of the forensics team looked in unison, like a hive mind, at the cadaver on the table.  “Yes.” He said, because. Well, it was.

There was a young and persistent voice over the connection where no one on their end could see. “A body?! I wanna see!”

“Tim no.” Lenalee held down a blue head of hair that was trying to hop into the camera’s view.

 

* * *

 

There were probably at least eleven codes of conduct and rules broken that day, because Lenalee was pretty sure that facetiming someone in the middle of a biopsy wasn’t on the list of “Okay Things To Do In A Forensics Lab.”

 

* * *

 

**After Timothy, came Lala.**

The first night of Allen’s concert in Barcelona, little Timothy learned that his father was kind of amazing. On stage at least.

Usually, Allen was about as mature as he was, which Timothy though was weird, because last he checked, he was the ten year old and Allen was the old man. The singer had white hair even!

It was obvious that Papa was the man in charge, even if Allen were the famous one. Papa was also cool, like Aunt Lenalee, because he helped make sure everything was safe and good. Papa also was wicked fantastic at baking, and Timothy was all about being a taste tester.

The boy decided that his new parents were great. Even though they liked to hold hands and cuddle in Timothy’s line of sight, and kiss and do other gross parent-couple things he only thought were in movies. But whatever.

Currently, it was the middle of the day, and Allen was at his scheduled practice in the new concert hall he was to perform his second concert at. Later, he was to also have an interview. Leaving his husband in the care of the family security, Link took Timothy out to the streets. Barcelona was preparing for its Carnival, and the populace had begun decorating.

Link observed the line of food stands with a keen eye, while his son marveled at the bright colors that were cascading the city walls.

The blue haired boy spotted bags of gummy candy at one vendor and tugged his father’s arm. “I want that.”

“Which one?” Inquired the young father.  
  
“All of them?”

“No.”

At this moment, the moment when the father went about buying his son a sweet treat, Timothy spotted a vibrant red ball fly overhead. It was rather large, and probably used as a prop of some sort for one of the entertainers.

“Oh my!” Startled a voice. Timothy glanced and saw a clown waving their arms in the air. “Young man, do you think you can fetch that for me?”

The boy shrugged. “Okay!” and went after the ball.

“Timothy!” Link called after his son and followed. He quickly looked behind them, trying to find who on earth the boy had spoken to.

He saw no one.

 

* * *

 

Working as a barista at a popular city cafe allowed one to become privy to very interesting individuals.

Chaoji had already catalogued the regulars and their times.

Every morning, no earlier than seven or later than eight, the tall red haired Colonel would saunter in for a large black coffee. Anita also had a soft spot for this customer, as there was always a to-go mug by the coffee press, with his name scrawled along the side. She also liked adding little designs around the rim. (Obviously, his aunt was more than a little fond of this man.) He would usually have his ear to his phone, mumbling and griping at someone he often called “Brat.”

Lately, it seemed that the Colonel had someone else to talk to, as he also began calling someone a “Little Goblin.”

(“I should just start calling you and that idiot father of yours Thing One and Thing Two.” snarked the Colonel.   
  
“Which one am I?” Demanded the boy.

“Thing One, obviously.”  
  
“Yeah, because I’m the best one!”

“Sure, let’s go with that.” )

The officer would set exact change on the counter, grab his cup and salute with it over his wide-brimmed hat and leave without a word to Chaoji, or a tip. The barista wondered what his aunt saw in this rude man.

 

* * *

 

Timothy chased after the bouncing and rolling ball, until he couldn’t anymore. Because it had disappeared. Somehow, with all the bouncing and twisting around the streets, the ten year old found himself lost, standing in front of an old church.

Turning in a quick circle, hoping he could spot anywhere he recognized, Timothy began to panic.

He had just gotten parents and now he’s lost them?!

“Hello!” There was a pat to his head.

“AH!” The boy yelled swung a wild punch at the strange voice.

There was an _OOF_ and the sound of someone falling. Looking over his shoulder, Timothy saw it was the clown. “Ah! Clown!” He announced.

Said clown was grinning (Or was it the face paint?) and patted his belly. “Goodness, you have a strong arm on you!”

“How did you get here?!” Demanded Timothy, immediately suspicious. He didn’t notice anyone following him, did he?

“I knew you would be here.” Chirruped the Clown, standing and dusting off his balloon pants.

The blue haired boy squinted. “How?”  
  
The Clown posed, trying to look serious and regal. “I’m a detective.”  
  
Timothy looked unimpressed. (He never did like clowns.)

 

* * *

At ten o’clock, on the dot, the handywoman from across the street would enter the cafe and order a small mocha. Sometimes, when her mood seemed to be anxious, she would get three chocolate chip cookies along with her drink.

Chaoji found it interesting that whenever Kanda was there, the woman would go over and greet him, and that his past peer (the prickliest man he knew!) would acknowledge her. Sometimes she would even sit at his table in companionable silence until her drink was done.

Every Monday, just before the cafe opened, the florist in the same venue as them would deliver a fresh bouquet to replace the wilting ones in the window. Chaoji at first thought he was a vampire, with his pointed teeth and pale skin. The florist never ordered drinks, but boy did he like the donuts.

Once or twice, the eccentric looking florist would come in with a serious blonde officer, and order lunch.

Then there came a rather memorable incident, when a man with a computer and overcoat ordered a caffe latte, and answered his ringing phone with a hard “ **What?** ”

Startled, Chaoji almost dropped the customer’s change.   
  
“ _What am I, your personal satellite_?” He hissed into the receiver.

The man then proceeded to crowd his way to a table and began typing furiously, and fast, cursing up a storm. Chaoji tried not to be nosey and pretended not to notice anything, especially when the man slapped his cell phone not five minutes later and announced that he had “ _found the kid, now stop losing my nephew you just got him!_ ” There was also the threat of eye gouging, but again.

Chaoji was definitely _not listening_.

 

* * *

 

Before Timothy could question the Clown more, or even begin yelling, because stranger danger - The said stranger put his big goofy, gloved clown hands behind his ears and said, “Listen.”

Unwittingly, Timothy listened and he heard singing. It was a a very pretty voice, and it was coming from inside the church. Being ten years old and curious, Timothy momentarily forgot about the weird clown and made his way to the entrance and slowly pop open the door.

Inside was a girl, older than himself, with tanned skin, and tangled bright hair.

 _La, la, la_ she sang. The boy couldn’t make out any words, only the sound of her voice which was something right out of a fairy tale. Entranced, Timothy leaned a little too much on the door, and it creaked, disrupting the girl’s song, and startling her to stop.  

“Sorry!” the boy pronounced, looking embarrassed at having been caught staring. “I got lost and I-”

Remembering the Clown, Timothy looked back. Only to find that they were nowhere to be seen.

Now that’s plain creepy, he thought.

 

* * *

 

Every afternoon, at two-fifteen, an intimidating young officer would take a table near the entrance, without ordering. Precisely three minutes after, another redhead would enter the cafe, this one loud and boisterous.

“Madds!” He would bellow, pleased to see the officer, and then flounce to the counter to order. Chaoji had learned early on this one was named Lavi, if only because the other man had introduced himself right away and proceeded to order one of the most complicated drinks the barista ever had to make.

Lavi never did order the same thing twice, which gave Chaoji a little enjoyable challenge every day. The officer though, “Madds,” himself would never order himself anything, and would only ever sit at the table and wait for his apparent friend.

After getting his complicated drink of the day, Lavi would sit with the other man and Chaoji swore the redhead never stopped talking.

Once the coffee was finished, both would always leave together.

Chaoji thought they made an odd match.

 

* * *

 

Link shoved his cellphone back into his pocket and rounded the last set of corners to where his son seemed to have ended up. The moment he lost sight of the boy, the father contacted the one person he knew would be able to find the boy in seconds.

 _“What am I, your personal satellite?”_ Neah had hissed.

Unbothered by the threats to his life, Link listened to the map of directions given to him. (Link had learned that ignoring Neah’s nonsense was the best course of action than to ever outright believe him. The blonde knew very well, were he not married to the man’s nephew, the risk of actually getting his eyes gouged out and shoved down his throat would have been real.

As it stood, Link knew that all Allen had to do was frown and Neah would backpedal so fast, the uncle would fall off a cliff and land in the lost city of Atlantis.)

Opening the church doors, Link ran into the foyer and called out his son’s name. “Timothy!”

“Papa!” The boy jumped from a pew, and waved. “I knew you’d find me!”

Before the father could scold his son for running away, and drag the boy into his arms, Link noticed the other presence in the room.

“Ah.”

His dark eyes made contact with a pair of weary, equally dark ones, and he swore he heard a piano in the air.

“This is Lala!” Timothy introduced, waving his arms with flare. “She likes to sing like Allen.”

“…Hello.” Remembering himself, Link stood straight and held out his hand. “I am Howard Link. Thank you for keeping my son company.”

The girl, who couldn’t be older than thirteen, only stared at the hand and huffed. “Next time, keep him from running off. The Carnival can get dangerous when it starts.” She warned, her voice was clear and sounded much older than she should.

Right, Link thought. He was the one being scolded instead.

By a child.

Timothy tugged his father’s arm. “Papa. She wants to meet Allen.”  
  
Of course she does.

 

* * *

 

Setting his sheet music down, Allen answered his phone. “Hello Mister Papa!” 

He heard his husband clear his throat. “Are you still at the studio?”

“Yup!”

Allen could hear Timothy chattering away as giddy background noise.

“I’m bringing over a guest.”

Grey eyes blinked, surprised. “Oh?”

 

* * *

 

Three o’clock seemed to be when the last handful of interesting fellows entered the cafe.

First, a duo of more young officers would chime in. The young man (who looked an awful like the previous young officer with Lavi) would order a large Cafe Americano, with three shots of hazelnut, medium caramel latte and a medium regular coffee with a shot of mocha - rapid fire as though he had this order long memorized before Chaoji even started working the counter.

The other besides him would stare at the barista with her hawk like gaze that made Chaoji nervous. After ordering, the officer would give his friend’s long hair a tug and leave to wait at the pick up counter. The female officer would huff, flick her hair, give Chaoji one last meaningful look and follow.

On this particular evening, after setting the ordered drinks on the counter, and handing his female friend her latte, the officer says, “Her name is Tewaku and she stares because she thinks you’re cute.”

Silence.

Then, “Tokusa, I will obliterate you.” the woman says, clear as day as though she were mentioning the weather, and left the cafe.

Chaoji, too stunned to say anything, gaped like a fish.

The other, Tokusa, cackled and followed after.

After the duo, in came Mister Marie, who Chaoji learned was a high school music teacher. He was also Kanda’s brother.

He would order a green tea, and if Kanda was still tucked away in the corner, a tea for him as well and coerce his brother into human interaction. Sometimes another man would join them, with sarcasm rolling off him in waves and pester the other two.

(Chaoji would later learn this was Kanda’s other brother, and the barista wondered just how much family did he have?)

 

* * *

 

The girl hesitated at the door, which Link announced lead to where Allen was currently waiting on them. Judging by the sound in the air, he was on the piano the hall had provided for him.

Lala made a motion to open the door, only to stop short and shrink back on herself, and toyed with her tangled hair.

Deciding that he could just barge the door open for her, Timothy almost did just that when his father sighed and stepped forward. Taking out his braid and stretched the freed hair band in his hand, Link said, “Hold still.” 

Lala scowled, not liking being given orders from a stranger. “What are you doing?” she demanded.

“Helping.”

 

* * *

 

The door opened, and Allen greeted the young girl, whose hair had just been detangled and braided, and looked for all the world nervous.

“Hello Miss Lala! Come have a seat.”  

The young teen stiffly sat at the piano bench beside the singer. “Th-thank you. I’m a. Fan.” She mumbled, face red and hands clutched.

Allen grinned, pleased. “Want to hear a song?”

The girl, wide eyed, nodded.

 

* * *

 

“Me too, me too!” Timothy ran in, and clambered up into his father’s lap, refusing to be left out.

Link blew an errant strand of hair from his face and figured he’d better go and find a fax machine.

 

* * *

 

After closing, his aunt would ask, “How was business?”

Chaoji would smile, proud, because he could say, “Good!”


	4. Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link starts a food fight and Cross is really good at his job, but at the same time isn’t. Featuring: Phantom Thief G and how Kanda went to the dogs.

The second time little Timothy tried to help his Papa bake, he dropped the entire bag of flour on the kitchen floor. **  
**

Link took one glance at his son, who was near to tears, to the pile of white on the floor and smeared a handful of flour all over the boy’s face.

Lala wandered in then, taking in the scene of her stunned little brother and the floor, to her Papa, and started laughing.

“Shut up!” Timothy retaliated by throwing an egg at his sister, which crunched right onto her front.

Silence.

Lala reached for the milk.

 

* * *

 

_Daisya Barry gaped at his youngest brother, mouth full of potato chips._

_Kanda, who was scowling up at him, thought his brother looked damn disgusting. “Swallow your food idiot.”_

_Quickly, Daisya gulped down the half eaten chips and wiped the salt from his face with his hand. The young teen scowled further. Use a napkin, damnit!_

_Noise, like the archangel he was, rounded the corner and shoved a paper towel in his brother’s stunned face, and continued on his way. Thank fuck for Noise Marie, Kanda thought._

_“Wait, wait. So you want me. ME.” Daisya pointed to himself in reiteration. “To help you get a job?”_

_At 14, Kanda Yuu was a lanky, awkward teenager. And like every teenager, he came to the point where he wanted money of his own. He let out a “che” and turned his usual glare on full force._

_“Yes.” He gritted through his teeth._

_“Holy shit, you’ve never asked me for anything!”_

_“Never mind.”_

_“NO WAIT COME BACK!”_

 

* * *

 

The red haired Colonel was in the cafe again.

Since Anita was working the counter that morning, and there were no other customers at the moment, Cross decided to make himself more late to work than usual and strike up conversation. Chaoji wiped down the same table for the fifth time, staring arrows into the man’s back, while his aunt laughed at whatever flirty nonsense the officer was saying.

He just didn’t see it. What it was about the man that stuck his aunt’s fancy so much.

There had been others. Men who held themselves the same way, sultry smiles and arrogant words, that tried to get Anita’s lovely attention. Only for her to dismiss them without so much as a hello, and the men were left with ice burn on their ego and pride.

Yet here he is. Always barging in on his phone, rough voiced and obstinate. He never left tips, and was out like a whirlwind (usually).

“Come over for dinner.” Anita offered, adding more coffee to the man’s mug. Her voice filled with that hum she always got when she was particularly interested at something.

The nephew walked into the next table, “What?!” he squawked.

Marian, ignoring the young man and his crisis, grinned, salacious and downright lewd. “Alright. I’ll bring the wine, Madam.”  He always called her Madam when flirting. Anita seemed to like it, as she practically glowed under the attention. To be fair, the Colonel also basked in her attention as well.

Taking his coffee, Cross bowed and bid farewell. “Until tonight.”

Once he left, Chaoji hissed at his aunt. “Just what do you see in that guy?”

“Oh Chao.” His Aunt sighed, giving him a look as though he had missed something important. “You simply don’t know him like I do.”

The nephew made a face at the nickname, and squinted at his aunt. “How long have you known him anyway? When did you two even meet?”

Anita tapped her chin in thought. “Oh, a few years.”

“He arrested me once!” She actually sounded damn pleased at the statement.

“ **WHAT**?”

 

* * *

 

Hours later, after an interview, Allen came back to their temporary home-away-from-home to the sight of his family covered in food, eating cereal at the counter.

“Man, I miss all the fun.” He lamented, as though being a singing sensation and performing live for adoring fan’s was bread crumbs compared to a food fight with his family.

Lala, who was closest to him, smeared her frosting stained had over his cheek. “Welcome home Daddy.”

The young father suddenly had stars in his eyes as he practically vibrated with delight. “Link-”

“Yes?”

“Link, I’m _Daddy_!”

“I heard.”

“ _Papa and Daddy_!”

Link ignored his ecstatic husband while their son gave Allen a look that clearly said ‘ _I think you are a really weird adult_.’

 

* * *

 

“Lala’s a music box.” Allen whispered to Link during the night.

Link put his book down, and attentively looked at his husband. The white haired musician had already told him of their son’s likeness to an organ - all high notes and enough personality to take up a room.

“She’s meant to be heard, the people around her will influence her song and they’ll be influenced by her in return.”

“Well,” The baker began, rolling to his side and crowding the musician with his arms. “Good thing she’s our daughter then.”

Allen bubbled up a laugh, heart full of joy.

 _Their_ daughter. 

 

* * *

 

_Day’s later, Kanda Yuu became the community dog walker. Every day, after school and every morning on the weekend, the long haired youth would corral a team of dogs around the neighborhood._

_It paid decent, and eventually dog owners learned he was good at training also._

_Daisya, who was the manager of the Teen Community Center, took several pictures every time his brother passed by, happy, yipping puppies at his heels._

_Frequently, Alma would tag along, cooing at the several dogs, who basked in the attention. They often laid on the grass of the park and let the canines lay and crawl all over them. Kanda would frown down at them and say, “Alma I’m working.”_

_“But they’re so cute Yuu!” They would fake pout, all a sparkle._

_You’re the cute one, Kanda wanted to say, but instead he would scoff and usher the pups away. Alma would turn pink and roll around tittering, because of course. They always heard what Kanda didn’t say._

 

* * *

 

Once upon a time, a red haired Colonel arrested a Queen.

At 19, Anita Han was a feared name on the streets. She appeared one day, with a loyal gang of followers. They stole, vandalized, but Anita drew the line at violence against another human being.

(She grew up around violence.

As a little girl, who had become immune to fear after watching the man who was supposed to love and protect her mother, slam his fists and bruise with words. Anita despised it, but was not above using her fists to protect herself.

Only hurt if they hurt first, she taught herself.

Trust was a hollow and weak thing, when she had no one to trust but herself.)

She was the unsung Queen of the back allies. She was also young, rash, and thought she was invincible.

Anita and her team had outwitted police, chased off other gangs who tried to push their way forward, and those of her ramshackle team - her family - only grew.

Until one night, when the sky broke in a torrent of rain, Anita found herself in the middle of a gang war that became too much too soon.

Mahoja, her greatest friend, was struck by a crowbar to the head, and all Anita could see was blood and rage. With a yell, she tackled the one who hurt her friend, not noticing others rallying their way to her, intent dark and black. Her hand had just stolen the bar from her offender, and hands were a graze away from her back when it happened.

There was no thunder with the rain that night, but the gunshot that echoed seemed to make the entire ground shake beneath her feet.

“Alright, break it up.” The voice was firm, but held a mockery of boredom with inflection.

How he got to the center of the mob, Anita never could figure out, but she would always remember him as he was that night. Tall and brooding, with a cheshire grin and red, red hair that caught the rain.

“Time for angry children to go to bed.” He continued to mock, and there was a part of her that was angry at him for it, despite how distracting he was. How dare he? Who was this man to come and nose his way into her business?

Two clicks and well delivered punch to the right person, and those surrounding Anita and Mahoja fell.

Those clicks? Handcuffs.

“Hey, you’re under arrest, congratulations.”

Anita had never felt more rage burn through her heart than that moment.

 

* * *

 

“I am the Phantom Thief G!”

Allen, who was pattering about in his pajamas with bed head and a mug of coffee, stared at his son who was standing on top of the kitchen table. The boy had his green bed sheet tied around his shoulders and what looks like a giant blue oval markered on his forehead.

“I see.” Was all he could say, and took a sip of his morning beverage.

“Woosh!” The boy leaped off the table and began running around the borrowed suite. It may be time to consider enrolling Timothy into school, Allen thought. When did the school year start again?

His husband, always the early bird, opened the entrance door with a bag of breakfast pastries when he became witness to his sheeted child. “Why?”

“He’s the Phantom Thief G.”

Link handed the bag to his husband, who began to dig through its contents. “And what does the Phantom Thief G do?”

“I!” Little Timothy took this moment to jump on the couch and pose like a superhero. “Steal from the rich and give to the poor!”

The blonde stared at his child, wondering what made him tick, and asked, “Isn’t that Robin Hood?”  
  
Scoffing, the boy crossed his arms, obviously insulted. “He’s English, I can’t be Robin Hood. I’m French and therefore clearly am a phantom.”

Right.

“Well, Mister Phantom.” Allen waved a chocolate muffin in the air. “Come get breakfast.”

“Muffin!” Cried the boy.

Lala shuffled in, bleary eyed and groaning. “Why is he so loud every morning?”

 

* * *

 

_At seventeen, Kanda had a Crisis._

_Alma hated rings. The things got in the way of their needle work and sewing for new clothing designs._

_Shit, the teen thought._

_“Shit.” He cursed out loud._

_“Yuu, no foul language at the dinner table.” Chided his father._

_Later that evening, Kanda was a pacing stormcloud in his bedroom. Froi stood in the doorway watching his son go back and forth._

_“Can I ask now?”_  
  
“No!”

_A minute passed. More pacing._

_“Yuu, I’m going to ask.”_

_“Wait damnit!”_

_The father waited some more. Eventually, Kanda stopped his moving about and faced his wall in a teenage, angst ridden brood. “Okay, ask.”_

_“Yuu, what’s wrong?”_

_Kanda mumbled and crossed his arms._  
  
“Yuu, I can’t hear you.”

_“I SAID.” The teen started, loudly. “Alma doesn’t like rings!”_

_Oh, Froi thought. What a dilemma for a young mind._

_Daisya, being the nosey brother he was, popped his head in. “What about something different?”_  
  
“Like what?!” Demanded Kanda, now glaring at the wall.

_“A bracelet.” Noise offered, walking past with his nose in a book._

_The Tiedoll house was quiet as the fretful teenager in love mulled over the idea. He huffed out a “che,” which Froi long learned was Kanda’s way of agreeing with something._

_Wait._  
  
“Yuu. Are you going to-”

_“Shut up.”_

_“Oh Yuu!” The father’s eyes welled with tears. How his son has grown!_

_“Shut up!”_

 

* * *

 

Strapped in the back of the red haired officer’s car, which carried the scent of coffee and nicotine, Anita seethed with rage. Which, the Colonel ignored and jammed a cigarette into his mocking mouth. “Damn rain makes it impossible to get a good smoke in.”

What nonsense. What rot. Anita’s tolerance for him shrunk with every passing second. “What about Mahoja?” She demanded. Did you just leave her there to bleed out and die?

Sharp eyes looked into hers over the rearview mirror. “Your friend? Yeager carted her off to the hospital.”

She did not know who this Yeager person was, but she doubted they even did anything. They didn’t know her or her friend, these officers. Why should she believe his word?

Seeing her twisted look, the Colonel snorted and started his engine. “You like rock music?”

“No.”

“Too bad, driver is the DJ.”

Instead of music, Anita heard a phone ring. The Colonel cursed and dug his cellphone out, one had on the steering wheel. “Why the fuck are you awake?”

Anita blinked.

“Don’t you ‘quarter’ me you brat, it’s late as shit go to bed.”

What was happening?

“Yes, I’ll be home soon, what are you, my mother?”

The car jerked as the office one handedly turned a corner. Anita wondered if officers could ticket each other for reckless driving. Last she checked, driving while on the phone was against the law.

“It’s almost midnight, go the fuck to sleep. Why isn’t that boyfriend of yours getting on your ass for this?”

The car parked. Anita looked out the window and knew instantly that this was not the police station.

The Colonel hung up and tossed his phone into the passenger side. “Damn brat.”

“Brat.” Anita repeated, staring hard at the officer. What was he doing? Much more, what was he thinking on doing?

He shrugged. “My kid, he’s a brat.” He got out and opened the door. “Okay out.”

She stared at him.

The red haired man made hand motions to signal for her to move. “Let’s go, according to the bossy gremlin at home, I’m past curfew. Hup-to!”

He must be truly dumb if he believed Anita would listen to him at this point.

A door slammed open near where the police vehicle parked, and someone bellowed. “Marian what the fuck boy?”

Anita was startled, and caught sight of a small old woman, with wild gray hair and a scowl longer than a symphony. She had her boney hands on her hips, and a foot tapping impatiently.

“It’s raining piss out here, move it!” The old woman ordered as she turned to yell behind her. “Barba! Get some towels!”

Slapping his palm against his forehead, as though Anita was the one making his life difficult, he reached in quick as a sparrow and yanked the gang leader out of the backseat by the back of her shirt.

Anita kicked and began to fight. “You let me go right now you-”

Two clicks, and the handcuffs fell off her wrists; Anita as flummoxed. She gaped at the man before her, who just huffed and shoved her at the old woman. “Take care of her Mother. She’s wet.”

“I can see that idiot.” Mother spat, and proceeded to shove a warm towel over Anita’s water logged head. “Come, come, let’s get you dry.”

Anita went inside, and the door closed. She heard the officer’s car leave.

“What?” Because, truly. What?

The elder woman “bah”ed ushered the younger down a hall. “Ignore him, he’s a dramatic bastard.”

 

* * *

 

Mother wasn’t the Colonel’s mother. She wasn’t even blood related to him. Mother was just Mother.

Morning came, and Mother’s phone rang. The old woman didn’t even bother answering, instead tossing the phone into Anita’s lap. “It’s for you.”

Weary, the female gang leader answered. “Hello?”

“Anita.”

It was Mahoja!

“Where-?” She tried to question.

Her friend cut her off, already knowing. “Hospital. A red haired officer gave me this number, saying you would answer.” At the revelation, her friend sounded just as confused and relieved as Anita felt.

 

* * *

 

Months later, Anita spotted the red haired Colonel leaving a corner store, a cheap can of coffee in hand.

“This damn place needs an actual cafe.”

“Quarter!” a little muffled voice demanded. Holding the Colonel’s other hand was a white haired boy. The kid was stuffing his contented face with a donut.

“Yeah, yeah.” Conceded the man, crossing the street, not noticing her at all.

Maybe. Anita had thought. It’s a good time to change pace.

 

* * *

 

_Kanda clasped the bracelet around Alma’s wrist. It was gold, with a simple embellishment at the rims._

_Looking from their boyfriend to the bracelet, Alma let out a squeal and tackled him to the ground. “Yes!” They cried._

_The other teen shouted, startled. “Why are you crying?!”_

_“I love you so much Yuu!”_

_Kanda did not understand why that warranted tears, but whatever. He accepted long ago that Alma liked to cry on him._

_He loved them too, in any case._

 

* * *

 

After dinner and Chaoji conceded that Colonel Cross wasn’t entirely awful since his aunt enjoyed his company so much, the red haired man asked for Anita’s tablet.

“The brats want to meet you.”

Anita looked positively pleased. “Of course!”

Curious, Chaoji watched as the internet call was made, and a familiar face appeared on the screen.

He stuttered.

“Ah!” Exclaimed the white haired man. “Chaoji!”

“Who?” A blue haired boy poked his head under his father’s. A blonde teenager waved at them. “Hello grandfather.”

Cross’ shoulders twitched, not yet used to the title. “Hi.”

Seeing the usually suave Colonel so awkward in front of his family sent an arrow straight into Anita’s already smitten heart. She started to laugh. “I heard you wanted to meet me.”

“Ooh, she’s pretty.” The boy complimented.

Anita beamed.

“Hi Anita! I’m Allen! Thanks for taking care of this lonely old man.” His kid teased.   
  
“It’s my pleasure.”

“Little shit.” Cross seethed.   
  
“Quarter!”


	5. Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Walker-Link family are adorable as kittens while the Mafia leader cries about it, and Cross gets love advice from a ten year old.

At the adoption signing, Lala looked at her name, scripted on the dotted line of the very thick cut of paper. **  
**

**WALKER, Lala.**

Directly after, she would write and re-write the name dozens of times, until all the paper in the suite was used up.

She never had a last name before.

 

* * *

 

Adam D. Campbell, the Don of the Noah, was crying on the floor.

His assistant, Lulu Bell, ignored him for favor of setting his desk back into order, while his son and heir looked on unimpressed.

Just yesterday the man had chopped off fingers and auctioned on the Black Market.

Ah, the duality of man, Neah mused.

Tyki Mikk slouched into the room without so much as a knock. “Hey boss I-” he stopped and stared. “Why did he break this time?”

The heir passed on the file he just exposed his father to. His cousin flipped it open and whistled, impressed. “Damn, the boy’s been busy! Another kid already?”

“She’s a lovely PRINCESS!” blubbered the Don.

 

* * *

 

_Allen’s tattoo started at his fingers, and traveled all the way to his shoulder, where it tapered off into something that was part elegant and another part roguish._

_His hand was painted like a glove of mandala’s, red scarred fingers still visible, and wrapped up to the wrist before shifting into curves of black. Waves of it wound up and up his forearm until reaching the shoulder, where the ink exploded into a crown._

_In early mornings, because of his tendency to wake before the sun, Link would trace the ink and thank anything that could hear his thoughts for not taking Allen away all those years ago._

_(He thanked clowns and red haired Colonels for finding him, ensuring the two would eventually meet.)_

_The only downside to being a famous singer/songwriter, was that  everyone and their pet parakeet found you to be the most interesting creature in the world. Things that made Allen who he was became plastered all over tabloids and blogs._

_What happened to that arm? The world suddenly was very interested._  
  
Is that hair natural?   
  
Where did Allen Walker come from?

 

* * *

 

“Link, I don’t think the loft above the bakery will be big enough.” Allen stated out of the blue, while the little family finished packing.

With two additional tickets, passports and a slue of documentation proving that, yes, these two lovely children are ours now, thanks for checking, it was time to head home. The tour was over, and Link had to return to his bakery.

The blonde looked at his husband, eyebrow raised, and wordlessly handed Allen a handful of printouts.

Oh boy, the singer thought. Houses!

“You’re the best husband, ever.”

 

* * *

 

The third time he fell in love, it was with a woman who held herself like royalty and had a smile that made kings throw crowns at her feet.

Cross realized it one night from work, passing the center of town to home, and noticed Anita’s Cafe still had it’s lights on. As if on autopilot, he parked his car and knocked on the entranceway. 

With her hair a cascading mess and falling out of her bun, sleeves rolled to her elbows and covered in dust, Cross thought she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. From the independent set of her shoulders, to the elegant and easy way she moved about the room, he could feel a familiar stutter in his so-called heart.

“Marian!” Anita exclaimed, both surprised and pleased at seeing the officer at the current hour. She smiled her beatific smile and Cross felt double damned and freedom all at once. “What are you doing here?”

“Saw the light.” He shrugged, feigning nonchalant and that he was definitely not having a mental breakdown behind his mask of charm. (Which he most certainly was.)

The cafe owner let out a short laugh, and wiped her hands on her dirtied apron. “I was doing some cleaning. Then I found myself redecorating. And after that, well.” It was her turn to shrug. “Tables needed to be moved.”

Marian kind of wanted to move onto a table with her at this moment, but kept that to himself.

“Would you like to come in?” She opened the doorway wider.

It was tempting. Beyond so. Every bit of himself wanted to say yes, please, and spend this lovely quiet night in the presence of this amazing woman. But.

She was so damn beautiful and the last time he thought this of someone, they ended up gone, gone, gone.

“Sorry.” He lamented. “I don’t think I can.” And he leaned to kiss her forehead before getting back to his car and running away, away, away.

 

* * *

 

He was scared. It tasted like ash and left a burden between his eyes.

To let go so easily? How could he?

Damn his guilty and weak heart.

 

* * *

 

_“So, Allen!” The Talk Show Host elated. “Everyone’s been wondering, what’s with the arm?”_

_Backstage, Lenalee began to seethe and considered throwing the stage director through the curtain just to cause distraction. Said stage director looked at the pretty bodyguard nervously._

_In his bakery, Link squeezed an entire tube of strawberry icing all over the floor and frowned at the television._

_At the city police department, Colonel Marian Cross barged into Commissioner Tiedoll’s office and asked, loudly, if he could arrest an asshole please and thank you._

_Blinking and tilting his fluffy white head to the side, Allen, at 18, lifted said hand and wiggled the scarred fingers. “This arm? I had an accident as a kid.”_

_And that’s all he said on the matter. He wiggled his digits again, if only to make his engagement ring catch the lighting and attention of the host. “Hey look I’m also engaged!”_

_“Also, my hair is naturally white and I like to sing and write music. I’m thinking about being a singer one day, what do you think?”_

_The audience tittered at the humor in Allen’s voice, obviously charmed by the young man, while the host tried to cover his bewilderment with a weak laugh of his own._

 

* * *

 

There was something terrifying at the idea of a family, Lala concluded.

For as long as she could remember, she never had one. What do you do with a family? What are the rules and expectations? Some days, the young girl felt out of her depth and the unsure footing her life had taken was distressing.

The idea of a family was also something her lonely little self desired. There was a warmth that she couldn’t describe and it made the proverbial gears in her head that had once stand still, whirl and rotate. A song rose up, and the usual notes inside her head shifted into something different.

But what do I do with it? Lala wondered.

How do I know this is where I’m meant to be?

A family meant love, but for the life of her, Lala didn’t believe she knew how to recognize such a thing.

 

* * *

 

On the table, Allen’s cellphone began to chime. Faster than a blink, Timothy snatched up his father’s phone. “I got it!!”

He looked at the caller I.D and answered. “Hi grandpa!”

Lala poked her head from around the corner, her new clothes half folded in her arms from packing. It seemed very odd that the Colonel would be calling them. Usually it was their father who did the calling.

“Where’s your dad?” Cross questioned around a mouthful of cigarette.

Little Timothy looked around the suite before shouting to his aunt in the living room. “Hey auntie! Where’s Dad?”

Looking up from painting her nails, Lenalee bid, “He and your Papa went out.”

“Dad’s out being gross with Papa right now.” The boy translated to his grandfather. “Do you want to talk to Lenalee?”

“No.” God, no. Cross shuddered at the thought. The girl herself wasn’t awful to talk to, but he doubted coming to her for his emotional crisis would go over well.

Especially since he was 100% certain Komui would somehow find out about it and Cross did not want to deal with that mess.

He sighed and pinched his brow. “Never mind kid.” What was he thinking, anyway? Calling in the middle of the night to bitch for advice like some kind of lovesick protagonist.

Marian Cross did not do _lovesick_.

The grandson scrunched up his nose. “Why do you sound so sad?”

“What?”

“You sound like, really sad and junk. Well, more sad than usual.”

“Excuse the fuck out of you goblin child.” Cross grouched, now determined more than ever to hang up.

“You owe me so much money old man.”

“Jesus Christ.”

Lala rolled her eyes. “Tim, don’t harass grandpa.”

“I’m not! He just sounds lame right now and I want to know why!”

The redhead felt his whole face twitch. So he was lame now?

“Did you break up with the pretty lady?” The blue haired goblin child asked, well, out of the blue. Cross almost swallowed his cigarette.

“Listen, kid, there’s nothing to _break up_ when we’re not even… _unbroken_ in the first place!”

“That’s dumb, why?”

Goddamn, Cross had forgotten how nosey kids could be. “Because. I’m hanging up now.”

“Dad says you’re in love with her.”

Silence. The Colonel went to his alcohol cabinet. “Yeah, and how does he know that?”

In a packed up suite in Barcelona, Timothy sat on the kitchen floor and blew a raspberry. “That’s easy!”

 

* * *

 

“She makes you feel safe, right?”

Lala leaned against the wall and listened to her younger brother, slightly awed.

“Like, you don’t feel scared to be yourself and and she doesn’t make you feel bad for it. That’s love, I think.”

How cool, Lala thought. She had gotten herself a cool little brother.

 

* * *

 

_After seeing what the media papers had to say about Allen Walker, newest young singing sensation, the Godfather threw them all at the wall. “ **Disgusting**?”_

_Lulu watched, bored, as her boss threw his tantrum. Sometimes the man needed to have one in order to function properly after. Regardless, someone was going to need to clean up the mess, and it wasn’t going to be her._

_“Lulu Bell! Did you read this nonsense! They called his arm disgusting!” He wailed and threw a chair._

_Media outlets were also becoming too curious. They began snooping and trying to dig into Allen Walker’s life. To be fair, Lulu thought, the boy did practically come from nowhere, with too much amazing talent and too many secrets._

_One photo in a magazine depicted Allen from grade school! Outrageous! The Don was beyond furious._

_“What do you want to do about it, sir?” Lulu inquired, because her boss never simply complained about a problem. He got rid of problems._

_“Get Tryde here!”_

 

* * *

 

_“Hello Mister Walker, I’m here to cover your interview.”_

_Allen started at the overly serious looking man in his living room. “Uncle Tryde?”_

_“This is my photographer and assistant, Chomesuke.” The uncle in question billowed right on, as though the young man had said nothing._

_“Hello Master Walker, cho!” The peppy assistant waved, setting up her camera._

_Link hovered in the entryway like a protective, yellow haired shadow and gave the woman a look at the “Master” comment._

_He may never get used to Allen’s family at this rate._

 

* * *

 

After his very titillating conversation with his ten year old grandson, Cross tossed his phone on the counter and uncorked a wine bottle.

He wondered if this is what his life had come to, finding advice from kids he’d never met in person and then getting drunk afterwards.

“Safe, huh?”

He sat heavy on the piano bench. Allen hadn’t been able to take it with him, with the bakery apartment being too small. Cross thought it was just left as an excuse to bother him.

Closing his eyes, Marian pretended he didn’t feel a familiar weight lean against his side. A memory of dark curls tangled with his mess of red hair while the weight would tuck into his shoulder.

 _“What am I going to do with you?”_ The memory would grouse, half whine and half sigh.

Nothing. Not a damn thing.

_“Too late for that, I think.”_

The memory vanished the instant the doorbell rang.

On the other side was Anita with her hair down and apron gone. She gazed up at the Colonel, eyes clear and seeking. “Hello.”

“Hi.” Cross found himself giving out an uncontrolled, throaty chuckle and leaned on the doorway, suddenly exhausted. “Want to come in?”

“Well, I didn’t come all this way just to be stared at.” Anita sassed, pushing her way through.

Closing the door, Cross didn’t notice a familiar image under the lamppost. With the click of the door, it flickered and disappeared.

 

* * *

 

Timothy squirmed in his sister’s sudden hold. “Hey, Lala what the heck?”

First Grandpa was being bizarro and now Lala? What’s the world coming to?

The blonde girl shook her head and gave the boy one last squeeze. “Thank you.”

“For what?” The boy squinted, confused. Lala ruffled his wild blue hair and left to finish packing.

Man, Timothy thought. Girls were weird.

Lenalee glided in like a swan and planted a noisy kiss on the boy’s cheek. “You’re a good kid Tim.”

Said good kid squawked and slapped where he had just been kissed, turning red. “AAAH!”

 

* * *

 

_Soon enough, candid photos of Allen Walker made it to magazine spreads. Full articles about his life, but still vague enough to not daw too much gossip made it to media blogs._

_Everyone learned about the boy who was adopted by the Colonel, who married his childhood sweetheart. Who always had a talent for music and also had an adorable corgi that smiles for the camera._

_Link has a stack of magazine covers, featuring Allen in much more lovely light that he preferred seeing his young husband in. He kept them if only because he believe the white haired young man to be madly attractive, and it would be a shame to get rid of them._

_One day Allen would come home, giddy as can be and shove a new magazine heading into Link’s face._

_**“Delightful! Sweet Barker, an Even Sweeter Husband!”** With Allen and himself on the cover, arm in arm._

_The blonde baker stared at it, incredulous. “Where did they get that photo? Isn’t that from Alma’s birthday?”_

_“I gave it to Chomesuke to use.” His husband said, innocent as can be._

_Link stared at his husband._

_Said husband grinned his damnably charming grin and kiss the other man soundly. Pulling for air, he states, “Now everyone knows how good of a man I have.”_

_Link stuttered, face flushed._

 

* * *

 

Going through the stack of homes for sale Link had handed him, Allen came to the last one and gasped.

Link knew which one he had found.

“This one! Link this one!” The singer waved the paper in the air, eyes glittering with delight.

The baker huffed to hide his smile. “If you insist.”

 

* * *

 

Anita ran her hand over the grand piano’s white base, admiring.

“It belonged to Mana. Gave it to Allen eventually.” Cross said, like a confession.

“Tell me about him.”

 

* * *

 

Another new morning, and Allen, bed head and still in his pajamas, found himself a lapful of teenager. “Lala?”

Snuggling into her father, Lala bid him a pleased “Good morning.”

“Good morning!” The father laughed, equally pleased, because if his kid wanted to cuddle, then she could as long she wanted.

Link, who was watching from the kitchen felt his heart grow fond.

“Papa!” Lala ordered. “You too! Here, here!” She patted the space on the couch where she had trapped Allen in.

“…Alright.”

“Me too, me too!” Shouted Timothy, not wanting to be left out.

Setting her suitcase in the foyer, Lenalee snorted at the family piled together. “You’re supposed to be getting ready for the airport you saps.”

Allen, a giddy and joyous mess, could only blubber.

Oh, whatever, thought Lenalee. They were a cute family.

Lala, sighed with contentment. 

She felt safe.


	6. Part 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Homecoming! (And Komui is a lovable mess, please keep him well fed).

_“_ Sometimes _,” said Pooh, “_ the smallest things take up the most room in your heart _.” **  
**_

_The brother would read to the sister, tucked away at his chest. She would yawn, signaling that she was halfway to dreamland, and the brother couldn’t help but agree._

 

* * *

 

Let it be known, to all who walk this earth, that Allen Walker is a **troll**.

His family, his friends, and even his fans; no one is spared. Especially his fans, whom the majority follow his instagram page.

The most recent? A photo of the family’s luggage being unloaded at Barcelona’s El Prat airport. Instead of three (Allen’s, Link’s and Lenalee’s), adult sized suitcases, there was another set of smaller, children’s sized cases as well.

“ ** _On our way home!_** ” the tagline read.

Within the hour, multiple sources had the image posted on their networks, demanding to know all about the picture and its details.

 

* * *

 

“You really shouldn’t tease like that.” Link admonished, as his husband switched his phone to airplane mode. Said husband shrugged and grinned. “Everyone’s going to know eventually. I’d rather it be on my terms.”

“Know what?” Timothy demanded, more than ask, as he leeched himself at his dad’s side. Lala looked from over their Papa’s shoulder in curiosity.

Allen squeezed his son. “That I have the cutest kids in the entire universe!”

Lala rolled her eyes, while Tim preened. “Yeah, I am really adorable.”

The boy got embarrassing smooches all over his face in public for his ego.

“Blarg! Dad, stoppit!”

 

* * *

 

At 7AM, Cross knocked the alarm off his bedside table and burrowed deeper into the sheets. Atuuda, having become Allen’s small-white-haired substitute, leaped onto his back and began to kneed at it.

The Colonel cursed the creature to hell, but in his half awake state, it was more like his voice became a garbage disposal of words.

A tap sounded off his table, and Cross could smell the familiar aroma of black coffee. “It’s time for all old men to wake up.” Flirted a voice. Cross cracked open an eye.

Anita stood over him, already dressed for the day, a wheezing small dog at her feet. It took the man exactly eighteen blinks before his brain came back on, and he could actually focus on that beautiful smile of hers.

“I am not old.” He groused.

“Keep telling yourself that.” Anita tweaked his nose, then turned heel out of his room, Timcampy following with pattering feet. “Breakfast is ready, by the way.”

After glaring at his doorway with a very wrinkled and offended nose, Marian finally managed to get up and out of bed. Why was he always surrounded by morning people? It was a curse.

Sipping away at the perfectly brewed coffee (a perk of dating a cafe owner), he plopped himself down at the table, not before giving Anita’s crown a morning kiss and a very bleary thank you for cooking.

 

* * *

 

The first morning Anita stayed over at his, she laid down two ground rules:

  1. After every meal she cooks, she is to be given a thank you. No gratitude meant all of said food will end up on your face, your ass on the floor, and the dog trying to eat the mess up.
  2. Cross was not allowed to kiss her mouth until after he’s brushed his teeth.



Cross wondered if his morning breath was truly that bad, or if he just always ended up falling for people who were particular about dental hygiene.

 

* * *

 

_Komui Lee was a prodigy. At fourteen he graduated high school, and soon after began taking college level courses online. By the time he was 17 (going on 18), he had gained three science degrees, (pre-med, microbiology, and biochemistry) and a sister._

_Just after submitting his application for the forensic science track, Komui Lee held little newborn Lenalee Lee in his long awkward arms, and fell in love._

_This was the moment he became a brother._

_“_ As soon as I saw you _,” he would read to her at bedtime. “_ I knew a grand adventure was going to happen.”

 

* * *

 

Making his way to his car, to hassle himself to work, Colonel Marian Cross stopped short to observe the moving trucks just across the street.

“Huh. Someone’s moving in.”

 

* * *

 

“Sir, you need to get off the floor.” Assistant Forensics Chief Reever nudged his boss with a foot. Said boss was laying face down on the tiled floor, spreadeagle.

“What if the plane crashes?” Komui asks, voice deadly serious, but its effect diminished due to his current, physical state.

Actually, it was always hard to take the man seriously, what with the pink bunny slippers and constant state of emotional disarray.

The Assistant Chief rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, as though asking for strength to handle the drama Komui would bring in this morning. “Okay, I’ll bite.” He crouched down in an attempt to look at his boss in the eyes. “What plane?”

Glasses flashing, Komui frowned something fierce. “Lenalee is coming home!” Reever felt a headache coming on, because this was the smartest man he knew, yet Komui insisted on sounding like a pouting child.

In an attempt to defuse the oncoming storm, Reever attempted a cheerful, “That’s great! We’ve really missed her!” Which was the truth. The science hub of the Precinct, and those affiliated with them were liken to a mishmash of family, Lenalee included.

“But!” The Lead Forensics Chief whined. “Thirty-six hours is sooooo looong!” The man squirmed on the floor. Reever wondered when it was last mopped.

“And what if the PLANE CRASHES?!” Komui bellowed.

“It won’t.” Deadpanned the other man.

This is when Komui grabbed his friend’s face with both hands and forced the man to lean down, nose to nose. “ **But what if it does**?”

Reever deduced it was going to be a long thirty-six hours in both the Forensics Department and the Lee household.

 

* * *

 

“Komui, it’s my lunch break.”

“But Bak-”

“No.”

“ **BUTWHATIFTHEPLANE** -”

Bak Chang turned off his cellphone.

Only for his classroom phone to begin ringing.

 

* * *

 

The second image Allen posted to his account was that of the back of Link’s dozing head. Another set of blond and a smaller blue-fading back into brunett heads pillowed on his shoulders. Allen’s own head peaked in the corner of the image, mirth in his eyes.

“ ** _Sleepy family waiting 4 our luggage!!!!!!!_** ” said the tagline, followed by a string of emojis.

Later Allen would insist that, yes, that many exclamation points were necessary.

 

* * *

 

_Lenalee was five and she couldn’t stop crying. Komui feels their world crash around them as he signs for full custody, and his heart mourns for them both._

_Komui is 22 when he and Lenalee are orphaned, and suddenly simply being alive was a lot more dangerous than previously believed. He had just entered into his internship through the college._

_Over the course of mere hours, he had become not just a brother, but mother and father as well._

_His sister cried for the both of them._

_Haggard and broken hearted, Komui read Lenalee to sleep- because even when distraught, the little sister always, always fell away to sleep at the sound of her brother’s reading._

_“_ If there ever comes a day when we can’t be together, keep me in your heart. I’ll stay there forever. _”_

_Only after Lenalee fell asleep, did he let his tears fall._

 

* * *

Chaoji served his ten-o’clock her mocha and cookies, and watched as she seated herself across from a very engrossed Kanda. Besides him, which was a rarity during his studies, was Alma.

At any given moment, whenever it looked like Kanda was about to bolt, scowl set across his mouth, Alma would yank their husband back. They would give him **A Look** , and Kanda would very wisely sit back down and continue working.

“Fucking hate math, why do I need this shit for this degree.” The man would grumble and curse, complaining that he was never going to use it.

Or less of a complaint, and more of a vow to never touch the math ever again.

Apparently, Chaoji deduced, Kanda Yuu hated math.

Miranda hesitantly slid her cookies over to the younger man, serious set in her shoulders. “W-work hard Kanda!” She stuttered and encouraged.

Kanda looked from the cookies, to his computer screen, to Alma’s unflappable gaze and let out a noise that Chaoji could only describe as a very angry cat. He watched as Kanda stuffed a cookie in his mouth (Kanda! Of all people! The man who hates anything sweet!) and continued to attack his computer with fever.

 

* * *

 

Staring at the armful of streamers that had been thrust into his arms, Bak arched his full eyebrows at his boyfriend.

“What, no welcome home kiss?” Bak asked, part sarcasm, other part insulted.

Komui pranced by the smaller male, kissed his forehead and flounced away, a long banner following after his tall form. “Welcome home boo-bear! Now put the streamers up in the hallway!”

For the boo-bear comment, Bak Chang dropped said streamers on the ground, because **no**. He crossed his arms and waited.

It wasn’t as though Komui needed his help anyway, what with the entire forensics hub crawling around his house, decorating the place from the ground, up.

Around the hall’s corner, Komui slowly slithered around, looking for all the world like a wounded child. “B _aa_ aak.”

The middle school chemistry teacher stared the taller man down, waiting.  

“The most wonderful and brilliant Bak Chang, please use your amazing and magnificent knowledge and skill to help me prepare my humble home for precious Lenalee’s return.”

Reever, who was dutifully tying ribbons around balloons, snorted.

Suddenly becoming decidedly altruistic, Bak sniffed. “I guess I can help. You’ll be useless without me anyway.”  
  
“Yes!” Komui was practically sparkling.

 

* * *

 

_At first, Reever just thought the greenhorn Forensics Chief was actually an idiot who got lucky._

_The man always scrambled in through the elevator doors, just two second shy of being late to work. His hair was in a constant state of distress, and it seemed that he owned no shoes except pink, rabbit eared slippers._

_When Chief Komui Lee wasn’t inhaling mug after mug of coffee, he was working. If he wasn’t doing either of those things, he was falling asleep at his desk, paperwork piled about._

_If Assistant Chief Reever Wenham hadn’t witnessed his boss’ skill first hand, he would believe Komui only got this job through connections._

_The rest of the forensics hub was of the same belief. Until they weren’t._

_On one such day, when Komui had face planted at his desk, dead to the world until the next investigation, the elevator doors opened and closed. From his desk, Reever saw no one, and wondered if Cross was playing prank on them again. (Last time had resulted in the sprinkler system giving off orange spray)_

_Instead of Cross and his shenanigans, Reever heard the pitter-patter of little feet. Johnny, who was on the other side of the desk, looked downright delighted. “How cute!” his assistant whispered._

_Peering over, Reever laid witness to a little girl, no older than seven, make her way to his boss’ prone form. She had a serious pout on her small face, and a determination in her gait. She was pretty adorable, Reever conceded._

_But also. Why was there a little girl in their labs?_

_This was probably unsafe._

_Said little girl had an equally little backpack over little her shoulders, and when she reached the slumbering man’s desk, she whipped it around and pulled out a lunch bag. Dutifully, but quietly, she slid it atop a stack of papers. Nodding, as if satisfied, she put her little hands on her hips and spun around to march back to the elevators._

_Stunned, and unable to make heads or tales of what was happened, Reever made a move to follow the little girl. “Um.” He started._

_Gasping, the girl jumped, and stared at the man, her dark eyes wide._

_Huh. Thought Reever. She looks a lot like the boss._

_After an awkward staring match, the little girl bowed. “Please make sure he eats thank you bye bye!” She gave in one breath._

_And zoom! Out she went._

 

* * *

 

_After that, Reever and the rest of the forensics hub made sure their floundering boss was well fed._

_The second time they all were graced with the little one’s presence, her nose was red. Komui, who refused to look embarrassed, announced matter-of-fact, “This is my precious sister princess Lenalee and she has a cold.”_

_And that was how Lenalee Lee was formally introduced to the Forensics Department, and everyone began to understand why their boss was the way he was._

_Apparently babysitters were hard to find on such short notice, and raising a little girl on your own was more than enough of an excuse to be Komui’s particular brand of loopy._

_“_ We didn’t know we were making memories _,” their boss had read, stuffed in his office chair, towers of files pushed off to the side, book and sister in hand. “_ We just knew we were having fun _.”_

_And, okay. Reever decided they made a cute picture. Neglected paperwork notwithstanding._

 

* * *

 

Kanda stared at his computer, expressionless. Which, as far as Chaoji knew, was par for course for the other man.

“I’m done.” He announced.

Kanda Yuu, on this day in history, passed his final math exam. 

Ever.

Miranda clapped her hands, while Alma peppered kisses all over the man’s face. “I’m proud of you.”  
  
Another kiss. “So,” they punctuated with another kiss. “Proud of you.”

Kanda took each and everyone one of them like a man receiving a badge of honor.

“Goodness!” Anita rounded the cafe bar to the group. “Wasn’t that you’re last course?”  
  
The man grunted in assertion.

Clapping her own hands, the cafe owner looked pleased for Kanda. “Congratulations!”

“Wow!” Explained Chaoji. “You’re graduating college!” After watching the young man come in and out of the cafe, studying away, it was kind of a moving experience to know he had accomplished his goal.   
  
“What were you studying for, anyway?” Asked the barista.

With Alma practically in his lap, Kanda looked Chaoji dead in the eye and answered. “Special Education.”

That. Was unexpected. But also cool, in a totally Kanda kind of way. When Chaoji got to thinking about it, Kanda working with children, and helping them, well.

It made sense.

Miranda looked as though she were to cry. Kanda began to look horrified. “Don’t cry damnit!”

“I-I’m sorry. It’s j-just. This is a very happy day!” She wiped her almost-tears away. “Kanda is graduating after working so hard, and I just found ou-out this morning that I’m pregnant.”

Silence.

Then.

“WHAT THE FUCK.”

Alma let out a squeal. “I’m going to have a nibling!”

 

* * *

 

When Noise Marie got the news, he passed out on the lawn.

Daisya laughed at him for hours, while Tiedoll weeped for joy at his growing family.

 

* * *

 

The third picture Allen, singer/songwriter, posted on instagram, was of two little feet sticking out from under a pile of blankets.

“ _ **Little guy is all tuckered out. Can’t wait for our new home!**_ ”

Explain! The world demanded. We want to know! Blogs posted.

Link watched the internet virtually explode over his phone and harrumphed. His husband really knew how to cause a stir.

On the mattress stacked on their loft floor (a makeshift bed for all four of them until they could get settled in their new house) said husband was cuddled between their two kids, beaming. “ _A dream is a wish, your heart makes._ ” He lullabyed.

Crawling under the blankets, Link hoped and promised to make the dreams of  their children come true.

“ _When you’re fast asleep_.”

 

* * *

 

_Have faith in your dreams and someday  
_ _Your rainbow will come smiling through  
_ _No matter how your heart is grieving  
_ _If you keep on believing  
_ _The dream that you wish will come true._

 

* * *

 

“ **Welcome home Lenalee**!” Everyone chorused.

Confetti popped into the air, and Johnny may have accidentally stepped on a balloon, and in the center of the commotion Komui held his arms out, looking as expectant and jovial as ever.

Lenalee laughed, heart happy. “I’m home!”

 

* * *

 

Timothy yelled in excitement at the sight of his new home. There was a yard!

And windows! Was it normal to be excited over windows? The boy decided it didn’t matter. They were HIS windows now.

He was going to have his own room!

“AAAH!!! This is AMAZING!” Timothy ran inside, eager to investigate.

Already inside, Lala avidly began to inspect every corner.

Across the street, Colonel Marian Cross gaped, shellshocked.

Link took pictures with his phone, while Allen waved. “Hello neighbor!” He sang and mocked, like the troll he was.

Seething, the officer demanded that the brat had better take the piano this time!

 

* * *

 

_“ ‘How do you spell love?’ ” read the brother._

_“ ‘You don’t spell it…you feel it.’ ” concluded the sister._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you can guess what Komui is reading Lenalee and what song Allen sang you won in your childhood.


	7. Part 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A family can’t be a team, because with teams, there’s always a winner or a loser. With family, there are no losers. That’s what Timothy Hearst-Walker believes anyway. 
> 
> Lala’s song is “Not Alone” by Otto Knows.

Link looked from their pets, to the exotic plant, to his children enjoying lunch at the counter. Timcampy was a wheezing delight at his human doppelgänger’s feet, as they boy kept sneaking the dog bits of food. Which, thought the father, the son did not need to sneak at all, seeing as Allen had been spoiling the canine rotten with human food since the day Cross dropped into Allen young arms. **  
**

Lala was absentmindedly petting Atuuda between her lunch and reading a book. The cat purred, contented at yet another human to shower her with attention.

Rosemary the Man Eating Plant, which really was just a title given to her by Toukusa all those years ago (and it stuck), well. Link just fed her a rat, so he assumed the unconventional houseplant was happy.

“Allen.”

“Hmm?” Allen shoved another sandwich into his mouth, looking at his husband.

“We have five.”

 

* * *

 

Lala and Timothy watched their Dad almost choke on his food, laughing up a storm. Their Papa looked downright smug.

“Adults are weird.” Said Tim.

Lala nodded. “I concur.”

 

* * *

 

_When Timothy was seven and a half, he was abandoned on the doorstep of Hearst’s Orphanage in the middle of a cold December night, by a father who never loved him._

_He was as bitter as the wind at the time._

_Fast forward two years later, and Timothy gained two fathers at the same time, who will never stop loving him._

_Or his sister. Or each other._

_He may be young, but Timothy was observant. He saw a lot of love in his family, even he was too unwilling to outright admit it at times._

_But what makes a family?_

 

* * *

 

Cross walked into his office, late as usual, coffee in hand, only to almost spit it all over himself.

Set smack dab in the middle of the room was a brightly colored, obnoxious standee of his brat.

“What the fucking fuck?” The police officer choked.

A tell-tale jingle appeared down besides him, and the redhead looked down to see his grandson, shaking his swear jar expectedly.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Why the he _-eck_ are you here?!” It hurt to correct himself, but damn if Cross didn’t want to lose anymore money, and stuffed the damn jar with a dollar (just in case).

Placated, the boy answered, “Dad dropped me off, saying we needed to bond.”

Marian Cross could practically hear his brat’s cackle from wherever the hell he was.

 

* * *

 

“Let’s go bother the nerds in Forensics.”

“Will I get to see a dead body?”  
  
“Probably. Don’t tell your parents.”

 

* * *

 

Once, just once, a cameraman tried to bother their way into getting a surprise picture and scoop of Allen and Lala.

The father and daughter just left Anita’s cafe, and the instant Allen saw the flash, he was on the nosey man in a second.

“Hello! I understand that you are only trying to do  your job, but could you please not do that?” Greeted the singer, all smiles and blatant charm. The would be photographer was dazed, then aghast to discover that Allen had use his left hand to crunch the camera into a pieces.

“What the hell beansprout?” Kanda groused from the cafe door, looking as menacing and as Kanda as ever. Lala had retreated back into the shop to grab her father’s friend, just incase. Said girl was hiding behind the long haired man, peeking behind his arm and glare at the interloper.

The cameraman began to sputter while Allen whipped his head around to give his friend a scathing look. “It’s ALLEN.”

“Che.” Kanda turned his steel gaze at the stranger, which if the cameraman knew Kanda, they would know that this was Kanda’s usual expression. “Go away.”

Not needing to be told twice, the stranger scampered away, crushed camera and all.

This kind of incident never happened again.

 

* * *

 

_Since leaving France with his new family, Timothy had kept in contact with the Head Mother who cared for him during his stay at the orphan home._

_They both emailed back and forth, sharing stories and the nonsense that often happens from having a diverse family or running a home for children._

_“Dear Mother Hearst,” he would always begin, because if there was one thing she had taught him, it was manners._

_“I have learned something really important, and I want to tell you about it.”_

 

* * *

 

“Afternoon Colonel.” Greeted Weever, eyes weary.

Cross huffed around his unlit cigarette. “Don’t give me that look, I’m just here to see the new evidence.”

“Right.” the assistant forensics chief sighed and headed toward the evidence table, about to explain what had been and had not been concluded.

Except Assistant Gill decided to scream and pass out on the ground. Komui, being the good boss that he was, had kicked the rolling surgical table out of the way, less Gill would have had a very nasty fall.

On the body table, half covered by a film sheet, was a grinning ten year old, who was very much alive.

Cross pointed and laughed like the hooligan he was.

“Why is there a child in the surgery lab?!” Yelled Weever. “Cross!” He pointed accusingly.

The man in question was leaning on a desk, wheezing like his kid’s damned dog. “Just-” he gasped, and more laughter. “Let me have this moment.”

After the terror of the forensics lab left, ten year old hefted like a grinning sack of flour, Komui looked at his chief assistant. “That was funny.”

“No it was **NOT**!”

 

* * *

 

“Daddy.” Lala tugged her father’s white hair to get his attention. Looking upside down at his daughter from the grand piano, Allen grinned. “What’s up?”

He noticed right away she was red in the face, and pinching her fingers together. Usually, this meant that Lala had become very shy, despite being a very blunt young lady.

“There’s a song.” She mumbled, then looked cross at herself for it and tried again louder. “There’s a song I want to write. But I don’t know,” she tapered off, almost quite. “How.” 

Allen jumped up from the piano bench and engulfed his daughter in a hug, almost lifting her feet off the ground. Almost, because as she was just mere centimeters away from his height.

She squeaked, caught off guard. “Daddy!”

“Let’s go see Miranda.” Allen said, elated and fond all at once. He knew exactly what to do.

—

_He had once asked Mother Hearst what a family was, nose scrunched and mouth petulant. He was far from the only child at the Home, and all of them continuously went about wanting a family._

_Timothy had no idea what that was. So he never asked for it._

_“Family holds different meaning for everyone.” Hearst had answered, smoothing his wild hair back. “You will simply just have to find out what yours is.” She tweaked his nose and he blew a raspberry at her in annoyance._

_Now, though, Timothy thinks he knows._

_“You see, lots of people keep saying a family is a team, like in books and movies and stuff. But that can’t be right because teams usually mean there’s a competition and there’s gonna be a loser._

_But, like, with a family there aren’t any losers. There shouldn’t be anyway.”_

 

* * *

 

Alma sprawled over their couch, flipping through what they thought were old photo albums overhead. Upon further inspection, they realized it was one of Kanda’s scrapbooks. “Yuu, did you know your books are mixed with the albums?”

“What?” Kanda poked his head from the hall, tying his hair in a topknot. His eyes widened at what exactly Alma was looking through. “No shit, put that away!”

Face turning impish, Alma began flipping through the pages with more intent. “Why, what are you hiding?”  
  
“Nothing! Put it down!”

Kanda stomped over, but was too late for a red piece of paper to slip through the pages and land onto Alma’s face. Their husband snatched it away and hid it behind his back.  
  
Alma blinked. “Was that-”

“No.”

“Yuu.”

Grumbling and pink nosed, Kanda showed them.

A bit stunned, Alma gaped. It was the valentine heart from second grade! “Yuu, we both go zeroes on that!”

“Yeah.”

“It was a _**group project**_!”

“Yeah.”

“You said it got thrown away!”

“ _Yeah_.”

It was well preserved, if not a little gaudy with all the decorations and glued on glitter. It had looked like a masterpiece in second grade, regardless.

“Why?” Alma asked, confused. They were also a mix of amusement and exasperation.

Kanda mumbled and glared at the wall.

“Yuu, I can’t hear you.”

“BECAUSE,” he shouted, then realized his tone and tried again. “It was your heart.”

 

* * *

 

Alma thoroughly kissed Kanda stupid into bed faster than a blink that evening.

They were so very lucky to have this marshmallow of a husband.

 

* * *

 

With the start of his children entering school, Link took it upon himself to join the PTA. It was the duty of a parent to help out at their child’s school, and to stay up-to-date on the events there.

For some reason, all of the mothers there kept giving him food to bring home.

“They think you’re a hot single dad.” Allen teased over the phone. He was away at yet another interview. “Trying to win your heart with their cooking.”

Link gave the tupperware of green bean casserole a frown. Suddenly, the food was menacing. He’ll just feed it to Rosemary.

“Lala’s recital is coming up.” Link decided to change the subject.

“Yeah! How is she? Is she excited? Nervous? I’m coming home in another two days!” Allen rambled and exclaimed. “Hey is she there?”

Wordlessly, Link handed off the phone to their daughter. “Yes.” she answered for herself.

“Lala!”

Timothy leached himself at his Papa’s side. “Me next, me next!”

 

* * *

 

Looking around the bare walls of his new classroom, newly graduated Exceptional Student Services teacher Kanda Yuu frowned. Well. More than usual.

He didn’t know the first thing about setting up a classroom.

Okay, so he had an idea. But where to start?

Alma busied themselves with unpacking his boxes of supplies. “Don’t worry. I called for backup.”

“Backup?” Kanda narrowed his eyes. “What backup?”

Suddenly Alma had yards of fabric in their hands and Kanda felt nervous.

The door burst open and in walked Chaoji, two drink carriers in hand. “Hello, I’m. Well.” He laughed nervously. “Alma said you’d need help.”

“Oy, oy little brother, this desk is shit. I’m gonna fix it.” Next thing Kanda knew, Diasya was there with a tool box.  
  
“Daisya what the fuck.”

Link walked in with a stack of baked goods and a blue haired child. Behind was the beansprout and Lenalee.

Kanda pointed at Allen. “No. Not this one.”

“Up yours Kanda.”

“I’ll shove this pencil sharpener so far up your-”

Somehow, the room got set up and decorated to fit the needs to middle school students. But not before Allen and Kanda got into a paint fight.

 

* * *

 

_“In school, we have to sometimes do group projects. I think family is like that.”_

 

* * *

 

Sometime during the school year, Link was unable to pick them up and Allen was away at a recording, and the city had an emergency that kept Cross unavailable.

Long story short, despite having a myriad of other people who could have come to pick them up that day, it was a strange man in a limousine, who was somehow on their school contact list (even though both children had never heard of him before) and allowed to sign them out from school.

“Call me great grandpa.” He giddied.

To which both children gave a blunt, “ **No**.”

Lala ushered Timothy to the crosswalk while the weird man sobbed on the ground. They could just walk to the bakery.

After handing out the last of large order, Link was surprised to see his kids walk into the shop. He blinked, then frowned. “Your…Allen had called for Neah to get you. Where is he?”

Lala squinted. “Who?”  
  
“What’s a Neah?” Asked Tim, also squinting. Was it the weird crying man?

The door rammed open, a different man than the one who had come for them huffing with an enraged look on his face. “I’M NEAH.”

All three Walkers stared at the man as he roared in the entrance. “That old man fucking shoved me in the CLOSET AND TOOK OFF!”

 

* * *

 

Lala and Timothy gained a Neah that day, and somehow a great grandfather that they never knew about.

Though, being family meant that little Timothy could exploit the menacing looking man.

“Quarter.”

 

* * *

 

After a long shift at work, Anita laid on Cross’ couch and set her feet in his lap, exhausted. On autopilot, the man began to knead and rub her feet.

She groaned and threw her arm over her eyes. “I love you.”

“I know.” The Colonel said, smug.

Just for that, Anita shoved her foot against his face.

 

* * *

 

_“Everyone gets a job in the group, and we all have to work together to make something. And it can’t be a group unless there’s at least two people._

_Sometimes there’s like, five or more though._

_Family is like that. It’s made by people who work together._

_It’s a group project!”_

 

* * *

 

The night of Lala’s recital, many PTA mothers were heartbroken to find that handsome Mister Walker was not a single father.

Their husband was just as handsome in his own right, even with the shocking white hair.

Timothy thought his Dad looked weird with the fake glasses, but whatever. He understood that Allen needed to disguise himself, otherwise people would disturb the show, wanting an autograph or sneak a picture.

Of course, Lala sang beautifully.

 

* * *

 

_It’s a long, long way to a miracle,  
Just to let you know,_

_You’re not alone._

 

* * *

 

Allen smiled at his son, who was attempting mouth the words to Lala’s song. He looked up at his husband who looked just as proud has he felt.

The music around them bowed and flowed in the air, and if he could see it, Allen knew it would be gleaming.

 _Ping, ping, ping_ went a piano, and Allen found himself no longer admiring the flood of music. There was no piano on stage, just Lala and her voice.

His ears tickled and Allen looked around the room. He knew that sound.

Noticing a familiar silhouette by the theater windows, Allen felt his heart go to his throat.

The memory beamed and waved. And when Allen blinked back the water in his eyes, it was gone.

“Allen?” Link asked. “What is it?”

The singer cleared his throat, “Nothing.” He turned to his husband and curious son, face splitting from the joy in his smile. “I remembered something, that’s all.”  

 

* * *

 

 _It’s a long long way to miracle  
_ _But I promised my soul that I’ll make it back home._

 

* * *

 

_“That’s what I think a family is._

_Also, Mother Hearst, you’re part of it too. Thank you for being the first person in my family._

_Love you, and junk._  
  
_Timothy.”_

 

* * *

 

“Mother? What is it?”

The older nun sent the email to the printer, tears running down her warm face. “Don’t worry dear. I just need to wash my face.”

What a lovely beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HASTA!
> 
> hmu on tumblr!

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I realize that adopting is not this easy, especially from another country. lmao.
> 
>  
> 
> hmu at howardlinkedin.tumblr.com


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